Sins Of The Flesh: A Taboo Collection

Chapter 9.

Layla's POV.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand at 7:15 a.m., pulling me from a deep, s*x-heavy sleep.

Marcus was already awake, his large hand possessively cupping my bare breast as he scrolled through his own phone beside me. His thumb idly brushed my n****e, keeping it pebbled even in sleep.

“Time to get up, little girl,” he murmured, voice still rough from the night before. “Inspection in ten minutes. Naked in the kitchen.”

I groaned softly, my body protesting as I sat up. Every muscle in me ached, my thighs from being spread so wide, my p***y from the repeated, deep f*****g, and my ass from the occasional spanks he’d landed while riding me. Between my legs, I was sticky and swollen, the constant creampies leaving me feeling perpetually used and full.

I padded downstairs naked, the cool air raising goosebumps on my skin. Marcus was already there, coffee in hand, his eyes darkening as he took in my bare form.

“Turn around, bend over the counter. Let me check how well you kept my c*m inside you overnight.”

I obeyed, gripping the edge of the granite and spreading my legs. I felt exposed, vulnerable, and shamefully aroused as Marcus stepped behind me and spread my ass cheeks with both hands.

A low, satisfied sound rumbled in his chest. “Still leaking. Good. But not enough for today.”

He fetched the silicone plug again, this time a slightly larger one, and worked it slowly into my c*m-slick p***y. I moaned as it stretched me, the base nestling snugly against my folds.

“Keep it in until I get home from work,” he ordered. “And today, you’re going to wear something shorter. I want easy access when you return.”

He chose my outfit himself: a thin white blouse that showed the faint outline of my hard n*****s and a pleated skirt so short it barely covered the curve of my ass. No bra, no panties. The plug shifted with every step, pressing against my sensitive walls and making my c**t throb.

Before he drove me to campus, Marcus bent me over the entryway table one more time and f****d me quickly, hard, possessive thrusts that made the plug press even deeper. He came inside me again, then pushed the toy back in to trap the fresh load.

“Text me every hour with proof it’s still there,” he reminded me as he dropped me off. “And remember, no touching that pretty cunt without permission.”

The day became pure torment.

The short skirt rode up dangerously when I sat, forcing me to keep my thighs pressed tightly together. The plug felt bigger with every lecture, rubbing against my G-spot whenever I shifted. By midday, I was dripping arousal around the base, my inner thighs slick. I sent the required photos from bathroom stalls, my legs spread, my fingers holding my skirt up to show the shiny, c*m-coated plug nestled between my swollen lips.

Marcus’s replies grew filthier: “Look at that greedy hole holding Daddy’s c*m. Can’t wait to breed you properly tonight. Imagine your t**s swelling soon.”

During my afternoon study group, disaster nearly struck.

I was seated at a table with three classmates when my phone buzzed with a new message from Marcus. I opened it discreetly under the table. It was a short video he had recorded that morning of his thick c**k sliding in and out of my plugged p***y, his c*m bubbling around the toy.

Heat flooded my face. I quickly locked the screen, but not before one of the girls, Sarah, leaned over curiously.

“Everything okay? You look super red.”

“Yeah, just… hot in here,” I mumbled, crossing my legs tightly. The movement pressed the plug harder against my walls, forcing a tiny whimper from my throat.

Sarah frowned. “Are you sure? You’ve been squirming all session. And what’s that smell? It’s kind of… musky.”

My blood ran cold. Could they smell the mix of c*m and my arousal leaking around the plug?

I forced a laugh. “Probably just my body spray. Sorry.”

The group continued, but I could barely concentrate. Every laugh, every casual glance from my friends felt like a spotlight on my secret. Here I was, the good girl who had always been responsible, sitting in a college library with my stepfather’s c*m trapped inside me by a s*x toy, my p***y stretched and dripping while I pretended everything was normal.

By the time I got home, I was a trembling mess of need and guilt.

Marcus was waiting in the living room, still in his work clothes. The moment the door closed, he had me against the wall, my skirt flipped up, his fingers tugging the plug out with a wet pop. A thick gush of c*m spilled down my thighs.

“Look at the mess you made all day,” he growled, spinning me around and bending me over the back of the couch. “You kept it in like a good breeding slut, but now I need to refill you properly.”

He freed his c**k and slammed into me in one brutal thrust, f*****g me hard and fast from behind. I cried out, gripping the couch as he pounded into my c*m-slick heat.

“Sir… someone almost noticed today,” I gasped between thrusts. “My friend… she smelled it. She asked questions.”

Marcus’s rhythm faltered for a split second, then grew even more punishing. “Good. Let them wonder. Let them suspect something’s different about you. Soon they’ll see your belly starting to swell and know someone’s been breeding this tight little pussy.”

The risk talk only made him f**k me harder. He reached around and rubbed my c**t roughly, pushing me toward the edge.

“Come for me,” he commanded. “Come while you think about how close you were to getting caught with your stepfather’s c*m plugged inside you.”

I shattered, my orgasm ripping through me with violent intensity. My p***y clamped down around his thick c**k, milking him as I sobbed with pleasure.

Marcus followed seconds later, burying himself deep and flooding me with another heavy load. He stayed inside me, grinding slowly, ensuring every drop stayed trapped.

When he finally pulled out, he turned me to face him and cupped my cheeks.

“You’re scared,” he observed, his voice surprisingly gentle. “Tell me what’s going through that pretty head.”

My eyes filled with tears. “What if Mom finds out? What if I really do get pregnant? My friends are already suspicious. My life… everything could fall apart.”

Marcus wiped a tear from my cheek with his thumb. “It might. But you’re mine now, Layla. Whatever happens, I’ll protect you. I’ll take care of you and our baby. This isn’t just s*x anymore. This is ownership, it's permanent.”

He kissed me deeply, then led me upstairs to the master bathroom. He drew a warm bath and lowered me into it, joining me so he could wash my body with surprising tenderness, soaping my breasts, between my legs, even massaging my sore shoulders, but the gentleness didn’t last.

After the bath, he carried me to his bed, his and my mother’s bed, and f****d me again, slow and deep, whispering breeding promises the entire time.

“Gonna keep you full every night. Gonna watch your body change, your t**s getting heavy, your belly rounding out with my child. And when your mother comes home, she’ll see exactly what her husband did to her daughter.”

The forbidden image sent me spiraling into another orgasm.

As we laid tangled together, Marcus rested his hand on my lower belly again.

“I want you to take a pregnancy test in two weeks,” he said quietly. “Whether it’s positive or not, we keep going. But I have a feeling your body is already working hard to give me what I want.”

I pressed my face into his chest, my heart pounding with fear, shame, and a terrifying amount of dark excitement.

I was no longer just following rules, I was surrendering completely— body, future, and possibly a new life growing inside me.

As terrifying as the consequences were becoming, the thought of stopping felt impossible.

My phone lit up on the nightstand, I picked it up to find a text from my Mom: “How are things with Marcus? He’s taking good care of you, right?”

I stared at the message for a long time, guilt eating me up. I finally gave a simple reply: “Yes, Mom. Everything’s fine.”

But nothing was fine, everything was changing. And the scariest part was how much I craved the destruction.